


Down and down the stairs

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Style, Kid Castiel, Kid Dean, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a upon a time, in a town far from here, a boy named Castiel Novak, would go on a trip down the stairs to the darker parts of town, and find a whole new world hidden in the eyes of stranger.</p><p>Once a upon a time, in a dark alley, Dean Winchester would find himself beat up, but saved by one fancy looking kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down and down the stairs

Once upon a time, in mansion in the far outskirts of a great city, there lived a man, who had many sons and daughters. They were all named with the same last name, but non of them looked anything alike. But the man loved all his children and always made sure that they were taken care of.

All of his children were schooled and well-behaved, and they never saw a day without food on their table. They were of many ages and names, and non of the looked the same, but they all loved each dearly.

One day, like many others, the youngest children and the servants in charge of them, went to the city together with the head of the staff, to buy groceries for the meals to come. The young children all went along, for they knew that it was a chance for them to see what the rest of them world looked like.

Amongst them, as one of the oldest, was the boy named Castiel, named after the angel of Thursdays, which had been a great laugh for his older brothers. Castiel might not have been older than his brothers, but he had known exactly what to say, to make each and everyone of them stop teasing him. For Balthazar it had been the promise of telling Father that the older boy sometimes snuck out in the middle of night, to wonder the halls. For Gabriel it had been telling the head of the staff, who was actually responsible for the lack of sweets in the storing room.

As he walked with his younger siblings he decide to break apart from the group and walk his own way. He knew the city well and he knew where the others where headed, how he could easily find them again, and how - if all hope was lost - to get back home on his own. So Castiel ventured out on his own, down allies, around corners, through markets places, behind shops and down the stairs, descending lower into the city.

Castiel walked among the people and saw many faces of many colours and many shapes. Non of this was really news to the young boy, who had seen so many people in his house - not just passing guests - but also his siblings. He had learned in an early age that non two people were the same. Even twins, if you looked closely, were not identical. But as his father had taught him; the soul lives not in the wrinkles of the face, but the depths of the eyes.

As Castiel ventured farther and farther away from the streets he knew, and farther and farther downwards into the heart of city, he started to notice how the sun was more hidden here, and how the people seemed gloomier and more closed off than in the higher parts of the city. He walked slower now, painfully aware of how much he stood out amongst these people, too well dressed, too well kept. Some of these people looked like they had never had a plate full of food and even less seen one.

Castiel walked as silently as he could and for each moment there went he thought about turning around and running until he was in the safety of his siblings again. But as if too afraid to cause commotion he kept walking on.

Castiel was finally about to turn around in an almost empty alleyway, when he heard a sudden cry of pain. His head snapped up, alarmed by the tone of the sound and fearing to find someone coming towards him. But then he looked up that was not what he saw and yet this sight made him even more frighten.

What he saw was a group of boys standing around another boy whom had been pinned against the wall, while the boys surrounding him took turns at hitting him in various places. Some went for his stomach, some went for kicking his legs, and other outright punched him in the face.

Somewhere in a part of his brain a voice was screaming for him to turn around and not get involved with any of these boys. This was not his zone and this was not his area. But that voiced was being muted by the voice crying out in pain and sounding so broken a defeated. Without thinking it through Castiel took a step forward and squared his shoulders to make himself appear bigger.

"Let him go," he heard himself say.

 

*

 

Once upon a time there had lived a little family, in a little house in the middle of the city. There had been a mother and a father and bigger brother and a tiny new baby brother.

Then once upon a time, that little house had burned to the ground, taking with it the happy little family, leaving behind a father who was only safe to be around then he had seen the bottom of too many bottles of beer, one motherless baby brother, carried out of the burning house in the arms of his now motherless big brother, who had to take care of the pieces of his broken family.

Now years later, Dean Winchester found himself running from a gang of boys, who was not only older than Dean, but also much stronger. Which made Dean's only advantage that he had quick feet and knew every alley and every short cut by hand. Yet he could not predict that the gang had at some point spilt up and was now coming towards him from both ends of this alley.

"Nowhere to run now, thief," said a boy who was missing most of his teeth.

Somewhere in the back somebody mumbled something that sound like " _we_ are thieves, George", but Dean couldn't be sure, his heart pounding away in his ears.

Another boy, who's hair was the same colour as mud, stepped forward towards Dean.

"What do you have to say for yourself, shuckface? Any reason we shouldn't beat the living shit out of you?" He asked. While he was speaking spit flew from his mouth and Dean had to make a great effort not to cringe his nose.

"Other than: "Please don't spit on me, I don't wanna get whatever your having"? No, not really." A smirk spread across his lips. He knew that this was horrible time to play cocky, but if he was going down, he sure as hell wasn't going to beg for his life.

It turned out that that hadn't been the right thing to say, because the boy's face went all red and before Dean could duck the hit, he had a fist in his face.

From that point on Dean really couldn't remember much, expect the bright flashes of pain and thinking that he hoped that Sam had found some food on his own, because even if Dean somehow made it back to him, the beard he had taken from the gang wasn't going to be more than a flat pieces covered in Dean's blood.

Then out of nowhere, the hitting stopped. Dean tired to open his eyes to see what was happening, but one of his eyes seemed swollen and the dim light that lid the alley seemed too bright.

The gang of boys still stood around him, but their focus was now on someone else. For a horrible moment Dean thought that it was Sammy that stood in the end of the alley, and his younger brother had somehow been able to hear his cries of pain.

But then the boy took a step forward and Dean saw that, not only was this kid fancy dressed but he also looked like he was well fed. Heck, it even looked like the clothes he was wearing was new and  _fit_. 

"What did you say?" one of the boys standing in front of Dean took a step towards the kid, but the kid didn't flinch or even blinked. His eyes was on Dean and the look in his eyes was so misplaced that Dean he almost wanted to laugh, was it not for his very bad condition. The kid looked friggin' curious, as if Dean was the most interesting thing in the whole world.

"I said: Let him go, or I'll get the police." The kids voice was deep considering that he couldn't be much more older than 10 or 11, a little younger than Dean himself.

Dean couldn't believe the words that had just come out of the kids mouth.  _Police_? Who knew this city even had something like that. Dean had certainly never seen them.

"Run along, kiddo, we haven't got time to deal with richers like you," someone called, and the other boys started laughing.

The kid tilted his head, as if he didn't understand the insult or why his threat hadn't worked. Dean wondered in which part of the town the kid was from, because he sure as hell wasn't from around here.

"I do not think you can you the word rich like that." The kid stated. The boys looked at him completely lost, but Dean had to smother a laugh. This kid might be ignorant as hell about the street life, but he sure knew how to outsmart the street rats.

"Get lost, kid, or you'll end up like this ugly mug."

"No."

"No?"

"No, this is not fair. I won't let you do this to him. And if you don't leave him alone, I'm ..." the boy looked around, as if a little lost as to what to use as a threat.

The boys looked at each other, stupid grins starting to spread across their faces.

"Or you'll what? Call your mamma?"

The kid looked up, looking the boy who had just spoken dead in the eye.

"Or I'll have no choice but to make you leave him alone." His gaze didn't waver and Dean had to admit that he was impressed with the kid for keeping such a cool face, even though he was facing getting just as beat up as Dean.

"Come on, boys. Let's show this richer how we deal with people who stand in our way." The boys all nodded and started walking towards the kid. Dean barely managed to registered what happened next.

One moment the boy closest to the kid was about to punch him in the face, the next he was laying on the ground with his arm in a weird angle. After that everything was a bit of a blur to Dean as more gang boys ended up laying in the ground with either an arm bending in a weird direction or clutching their stomachs.

Suddenly there was a hand on Dean's shoulder helping him getting to his feet.

"Are you all right?" A pair of very blue, very deep eyes locked with his and Dean was suddenly at loss for words.

"Yeah, uhm, I think so. Just a couple of bad bruise you know." He tired to sound calm and not completely out of breath, but it was hard then his lungs hurt like hell and he was having a hard time standing.

"That's not true, you look terrible." The other boy frowned and Dean almost laughed, but decided not to, with his ribs hurting like they did.

"Well, can you blame me? I was just beat up by a couple of street rats." 

"Yes, indeed. We should get you looked at at once." The boy practically pulled Dean arm around his shoulders, while putting his own arm around Dean's waist.

"Woah, easy there, tiger!" Dean protested as the other boy started walking down the alley. "Not for nothing, but I'm not actually going anywhere with you. I mean sure, thanks for saving my bacon back there, but I don't even know your name."

"It's Castiel Novak, and yes you are. You are badly injured and need medical help, and I know where to get it." The boy kept on dragging Dean with him out of the alley and up the stairs towards the upper parts of the city.

"Well, nice to meet you, Cas. I'm Dean."


End file.
